


After Dark

by Layneee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Cursed Castiel, F/M, Female Castiel, Frottage, Genderbending, Hunt Gone Wrong, M/M, On Hiatus, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 08, Sexual Tension, Vampires, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layneee/pseuds/Layneee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch hunt goes wrong, and Castiel get's caught in the crossfire. At first, when nothing happens, they think they've dodged a bullet. </p><p>But when is that the Winchester's luck?</p><p>A bizarre curse forces Dean to face feeling that he has tried to forget for a long time. </p><p>==========</p><p>  <i>“She’s doing what?” Dean sputtered as he pushed himself up straighter in his chair, warm beer all but forgotten. </i></p><p>  <i>“I said, she’s planning coven meeting on Facebook,” Sam replied, sounding equally as repulsed. “Who does that?” </i></p><p>  <i>“Twenty-first century wiitches, that’s who,” Dean grumbled.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester takes in their current digs with barely hidden disgust. 

He should be used to it by now, really. It’s just another flea-bitten motel in a _long_ line of flea-bitten motels. His eyes narrow down on the queen sized bed, where his brother has already thrown his duffle. 

If there is one thing Dean hates more than demons and ghosts and wendigos and ghouls and absent fathers it’s motel room’s with only one bed. He always ends up on the couches or mildew-y rollouts cause his brother is a _little bitch_ who claims the bed while he’s making sure their guns are secure in Baby’s trunk, like a _responsible_ hunter. 

Just to show his brother who’s boss he picks up the thing closes to him (a bible) and chucks it at his head. 

“What’s that for?” Sam yelps when the book hits him square in the forehead. 

“That, Sammy, is for being a bitch,” Dean snaps back. “Find us a case. I’m going to get a beer.”

He makes sure to leave the door open when he leaves. Nothing pisses Sam off more than having to close the door after him. 

==========

He only gets to drink one beer before a large body pushes itself into the barstool next to him. 

With a huff, Sam drops his laptop on the round table and opens a browser. “That was quick,” Dean comments as he signals the bartender for another round. She is perky and dark haired and definitely interested, if the numbers scrawled on his napkin are any indication. He’s just about to lay on some charm when his brother kicks his shin under the bar. “Son of a bitch!”

“You told me to find a case, so I found a case. You can indulge in your disgusting sex-life later,” Sam snaps, sounding snottier than normal. He’s just jealous that his skyscraper height scares off women. “Alright, so get this, a man was found dead in his home last night. Cause of death? He choked on a gallon of his own- um.” Sam falters for words for a moment, but before Dean can make fun of him for it he lifts his fists and moves it rapidly up and down just below the counter. 

Dean sneers in disgust. “Dude!”

“Yeah,” Sam replies with a gag, “tell me about it. His stomach, esophagus and mouth was filled with it.” 

“You know what bodily fluids mean, Sammy?” Dean asks after a moment of silence. “Fucking witches. Where was this anyways?”

“Portland,” Sam explains while stuffing his laptop into it’s case. “If we hit the road now we can make it by morning.”

The brothers leave moments later, pack up their few bags from the motel and leave Aptos, California behind them. 

==========

The man lived in an “up and coming” Portland neighborhood. For Dean, that translated to, “We got rid of the poor people. Now let’s add a hipster coffee shop and a yoga studio.” 

Jack Wolfe’s body had already been removed, but it didn’t really concern the Hunters. They were nearly positive they were looking for a hexbag, and neither brother was particularly  interested at unnecessarily looking at a man filled with jizz. 

They used the friends-of-friends-from-college cover and were let into the house by the widow quickly. She's a kind woman, offering the two men coffee and a few cookies she had lying around. 

“We were so sorry to hear about Jack,” Sam said to her, puppy-dog eyes in full effect. 

Dean doesn’t listen to her reply, but continues to carefully scour for the hexbag. It was fairly easy to find stuffed behind a framed photo of the vic and his wife on their wedding day. A quick cough signals to Sam what he's found and soon his brother is wrapping up the, “if there’s anything else we can do”’s and is being hugged goodbye. 

“Well he was a dick,” Sam says once they've climbed back into the Impala. 

Dean looks up from his dissection of the leather bag to frown. “What?”

“Did you not listen to a single thing she said?” Sam has his judgmental face on, and Dean hates it. “Janice said that she only wished she had her husband hadn’t been fighting the week before he died. Apparently the guy was a total dick and had been cheating on her.” 

“You think there’s a connection?” Dean asks while he looks closer at what was either a sparrow's lower mandible or a bleached arrowhead. 

“It normally is that simple with witches,” Sam answers. “I’d say we try and find out who the mistress was. I’ll question his assistant. You can have the brother.”

“Why can’t I have the assistant?” Dean tries to ask with a straight face but fails. 

“That’s why,” Sam tells him. 

Dean is not amused. 

==========

Meeting with Jack Wolfe’s brother tells Dean three things. 

One, Douchbaggery runs in the Wolfe family.

Two, Jack has had a number of mistresses, not just the one his “ball-n-chain” (brother’s words, not Dean’s) knew about. 

And three, he wasn’t the only cheating asshole who’s died in the last week. 

Aside from Wolfe, there are two other men who dropped dead. He didn’t say how they bit the dust, but Dean guesses it was also spunk related. Dean quickly had quickly thanked the other man for his time and left, but not before shooting Sam a text with the other two names. He's hoping the secretary knew who they were and how they were all connected. 

==========

It turns out that the three men were in the business of home restoration. Jack Wolfe was an electrician, while Joel Kraft had been a roofer and Tim Frank installed sheetrock. It only took another day for the two hunters to find where their connection was, or rather _who_ their connection was. 

Erin Curry. 

She had worked for a contractor who had hired the three men at one point or another in the last month. Under questioning from the “FBI,” her boss revealed that she had quit abruptly a week before the first murder.  

A quick call back to Kevin in the bunker, and Sam has access to her online life, and that’s when things get interesting. 

“She’s doing what?” Dean sputters as he pushes himself up straighter in his chair, warm beer all but forgotten. 

“I said, she’s planning coven meeting on _Facebook_ ,” Sam replies, sounding equally as repulsed. “Who does that?” 

“Twenty-first century witches, that’s who,” Dean grumbles. “Did you find out the dirty deets about the three amigos?” 

“We were right. She’s been venting to her friends about how much she hates her work because ‘construction assholes can’t keep their hands to themselves,’ and how much she is dying to ‘teach them all a lesson,’” Sam explains. With a sigh he closes the laptop with a _slap_. “It sounds like these guys were real assholes.” 

“That doesn’t mean they deserved to die,” Dean replies, playing the devil’s advocate (ironically). “She could have just as easily told her boss. Or hell, the police.” 

Sam rubs an oven mitt sized palm over his face with a groan. “I know, I know. Let’s get some shut eye. We can find the coven tomorrow.”

The clock reads that it was past two in the morning, and Dean agrees that it is as good a time as any to turn in. A quick face wash (Sam) and a shot of whiskey (Dean) later and the brothers are both asleep. 

==========

They decide over coffee (which Dean refuses to admit was damn good) that Dean would tail the girl on foot, while Sam sits in the Impala and waits. The younger Winchester wasn’t happy about it, but agrees that his taller frame would be harder to hide in a crowd. 

Dean is able to follow her down a popular shopping street, where she meets up with some friends at a colorful Mexican restaurant. While he nurses a Tecate, he strains to listen as they make plans to meet up later. One of the other women, Pauline, offers her home as it was ‘her turn’ or some other girly crap Dean doesn’t understand. 

Once they leave, Dean doesn’t see any reason to follow her further. He also doesn’t feel like leaving, since the beer is blissfully cold and the taco’s look amazing. Instead, he tells Sam where he is and orders lunch. 

Two beers each and a half dozen al pastor tacos later and they had their own plans made. 

==========

“Dammit Sam,” Dean swears for what feels like the hundredth time, “why do I always have to do it?” Sam just gives him a trademark bitch-face and keeps packing their guns. Dean flips him the bird, then steeples his hands over his heart. “Hey, Cas. I know you’re out doing good deeds and all, but we wanted to let you know were takin’ down some witch bitch tonight. I guess, just keep you’re ears on if shit hits the fan. Uh, amen.”

Dean clears his throat awkwardly and claps his hands once, hoping it would stop the weird buzzing under his skin. 

Ever since Purgatory he hasn’t been able to shake a certain _weirdness_ when it comes to Castiel, Angel of the Lord. He and the celestial being had always been close, something which his brother had always teased him for, and being in that wasteland just magnified that closeness. It scared him when he realized he _needed_ Castiel; fallen, crazy or otherwise. 

When they made it home through the void, those feelings didn’t change. So he pushed them away. He didn’t stop Cas from leaving to save people, hunt things, and carry on the family business without them. And he didn’t pray unless his brother was in the room and asking him to. 

“I’d say, that has got to be the most P.C. prayer I’ve heard from you,” Sam tells his brother with a chuckle. 

Dean just grumbles under his breath, picks up his bag of weapons and storms out of the hotel room. Sam barely makes it into the car before they're racing out of the small motel parking lot.

==========

Unlike Wolfe and Curry, Pauline lives in a swanky condo in the heart of downtown, which makes breaking in unannounced impossible. Dean even tried buzzing the neighbors, but either they were ignoring him or not buying his “I really want to surprise my girlfriend” line. 

Sam was growing more agitated by the second. He had already brought up Castiel once, but Dean immediately shot him down. 

Finally after half an hour of scrambling Sam grew tired of Dean’s refusal to ask for help and took matters into his own hands. Quick as lightning he seized both of Dean’s wrists in one hand and clapped the other over his older brother’s mouth. “Cas, we need help! Corner of southwest eleventh and market in Portland, Oregon.”

Dean is able to shake himself loose just as he hears the telltale sound of flapping wings. 

He turns. The first thing he notices is what looks like snow in the Angel’s hair. The second was that his whole body was flushed bright red. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Dean can't help but ask, witches momentarily forgotten. 

“I was at the north pole when I got your prayers,” he explains. 

“Who are you helping in the north pole? Santa Claus and his polar bear pets?” Dean snipes back. 

Castiel tilts his head and frowns. “Polar bears require assistance as well, Dean.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply but yelps instead when Sam smacks him on the arm. “We need your help, Cas. There’s a coven inside but we can’t get past the door locks. Think you could help us out?”

“Of course,” Castiel answers just as he reaches out to touch each brother on the shoulder. 

The next second the three men are inside a simply decorated condo, surrounded by witches. They look at the hunters for a few seconds before shit hit the fan, as Dean predicted it would. 

In the midst of trying to block flying objects Dean manages to yell, “This was not how we had this in mind, Cas!”

His angelic friend doesn’t answer as he spins, coat billowing, trying to catch a witch so he could whammy her unconscious. The women were proving incredibly evasive, and they had only managed to subdue two. 

Suddenly Erin was back, though Dean wasn’t sure when she left exactly, and she had what looked like leather water balloons in her hands. The threw one, that Sam was able to block, and it left a human-shaped scorch mark on the wall where it hit. 

The condo was getting fucking wrecked and Dean idly wondered why nobody else in the building had called the cops. He was too busy trying to wrestle one of the heavier women to the ground to notice Erin heaving a curse-balloon his way. 

There was a cry of “Dean!” then a _pop_ , before white light exploded and his vision turned black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Dean? What happened to me?” She asks, and her voice is deep like Cas._
> 
> _“Cas? That you in there?” Dean whispers, because he’s nearly certain it is, but he can’t help asking._
> 
> _“Yes. Something appears to be wrong with my vessel,” she answers with a quick gaze down._

Dean gasps awake from what felt like a pleasant dream and a coma all at once. For being Angel’d to sleep, he feels surprisingly rested. Though that might have something to do with the clock reading six o’clock in the morning. For a hunter, he had practically slept in. 

All around him, the others were still unconscious. Sam, every witch, and even Castiel. He took the opportunity, while he had it, to zip tie the witches together by their wrists. He contemplates cutting his brother’s hair, but doesn’t. They are still on a case, and he’s a professional. 

Slowly the others come to. Sam is first. He shoots awake just before seven and funnily enough, the first thing he does is grasp at his hair. Clearly he knows Dean too well. 

“What? What happened?” He asks while he takes in the destruction of the room with a confused look. His eyes land on Castiel, who Dean had moved to a still standing armchair, and he rushes to him in two gigantic strides. “Is he okay?”

Dean shrugs. “As far as I can tell. We won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

Sam agrees with a nod of his head then zeros in on the group of women. “What are we going to do about _them_?” 

Again, Dean shrugs. “I don’t know, man. It seems too firing-squad to kill them now. If Cas was awake I’d have him do,” he wiggles his fingers through the air mystically, “something. Mind wipe ‘em or something.”

“We’ll think of something,” his brother concludes. They each pull a chair in from the kitchen and sit to wait. 

Then, one by one, the women start waking up. Unfamiliar to angel-sleep, they are justifiably terrified. Once they spot the hunters, looking menacing and huge, that terror doubles. Erin was zip tied in the front of the group, so Dean crouched down in front of her first. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he coos. “Do you know why we’re here?” She vigorously shakes her head. Dean almost believes it. “It’s because you and your little book club killed three people this week. Ringin’ any bells?”

Her eyes widen impossibly and Dean thinks she’s about to shake her head clear off. “That wasn’t us! I swear!” She squeaks. “We were just going to give them herpes!”

“Then why’d they all die from choking on their own bodily fluids?” Sam asks sternly. 

“It was Alex. She was a little hardcore! She tampered with out spells, I swear!” the witch Dean recognized as Pauline answers. 

Dean stood and let his eyes search the group menacingly before asking, “so where’s Alex?” 

“Gone!” A middle-aged woman tells him. “After we found out about Jack we made her leave. We don’t know where she is.”

The brother’s shared a mutual look and a few hand signals. Finally Sam steps forward. “What were you doing tonight?”

“We were trying to help their wives,” Erin says. “If it went well, they should have each gotten a raise at work.” 

Sam sends a silent question to his brother over his shoulder. “And what did you do to our friend?”

Erin looks over her shoulder to where Castiel is still knocked out. She gasps and moves like she wants to help, forgetting the zip ties around her wrists. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “I had forgotten I had those. They were supposed to be for protection.”

“Let me guess, Alex made ‘em?” Dean asks. The women look sheepish and nod. Dean swears. “Well thankfully for you, he’s alive. If he wasn’t we may not have wasted with this little chat.” Erin blanches, without moving her gaze from Castiel. 

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Sam explains. “We’re going to wait for him to wake up. If he’s okay, then we’ll let you off with a warning. We hear another peep about witches here and we’ll be back. Do you understand?” The women all nod their heads. 

Dean smiled. “Good. Just one test first.” He takes in the group as a whole, waiting till he has their full attention. “Cristo.” He only gets confused looks. “Good girls. Do you got any beer in this joint?”

He stashes his pistol in the back of his jeans and walks past the witches to the kitchen. On his way he checks on Castiel, who is still passed out. He doesn’t let himself worry too much about that fact as he pulls open the fridge. There’s one bottle of Corona and another craftsman ale Dean’s never seen, both of which he grabs. 

Sam takes the ale, when they’re both offered, and the brothers take seats at the couch. 

The silence afterwards is awkward, to say the least. The witches are squirming and whispering together. For the most part the brother’s ignore them as they drink their beers. Both watching Castiel for signs of wakefulness. 

When the clock reads nine, he finally shifts before shooting up. In an instant his angel blade is out, and his eyes shine an unearthly blue. 

Dean jumps from the couch to approach his friend before he goes smite-happy on the women who are, understandably, scared shitless already. 

“Whoa, Cas. It’s okay. We’re safe,” Dean placates as he holds Castiel in place. He know’s that the Angel could move if he really wanted too, but he believes Dean too much to do so. Dean’s going to ignore how nice that feels. 

“What happened?” Castiel asks. His voice feels more wrecked than normal and he coughs trying to right it. 

“You got hit with some hex-balloon. You feel okay?” Dean’s fingers are lightly prodding his chest and arms, looking for anything out of the ordinary. 

Castiel frowns and he looks down at his body. “I feel strange, but my vessel often acts in ways that I do not understand. It is hard to explain.” 

“Are you telling me you can’t feel the difference between a witch curse and indigestion?” Dean can’t help but ask incredulously. 

“Apparently,” Castiel says with a glare. “What’s going to happen to them?” 

The witches all cower before him. It seems they’ve finally caught up that Castiel isn’t quite human and don’t know how to act. “We’re giving them a warning,” Sam tells him. “Their meaning tonight was to make penance for the deaths that another member of their coven caused.”

The Angel nods. If anyone understands wanting to pay their dues, it’s Castiel. They leave after that, ignoring the women grumbling that they’re still tied together. The hunters figure they deserve a little suffering. 

Once the three are back in the Impala Dean turns to his friend in the back seat. “You gonna hang around, Cas? We were just going to head back to the bunker to regroup and check on Kevin.”

“I would like that,” Castiel answers happily and settles back into the seat. 

Dean ignores the lightheadedness he suddenly feels and turns the key, bringing his Baby to life with a roar. “Lebanon, here we come.”

==========

The don’t actually make it all the way to Lebanon. It’s almost eight o’clock by the time they see the sign for Arco, Idaho. The sun hasn’t quite set, but Dean figures its as good a time as any to pull off the freeway and find a good burger. 

Pickle’s Place is the first spot they see, and Dean pulls into the parking lot. Immediately the three climb out of the car and enter the joint. A bubbly busser greets them as they pass her to pick an empty booth. 

“Welcome to Pickle’s Place. Can I get you some beers started?” Their waitress, a redhead who's name-tag reads April, asks as she reaches their table.  

“Beer sound great. And I think I’ll get a bacon cheeseburger, extra onions,” Dean says with a wink. Across the table from him Castiel blinks. “He’ll have the same,” he adds with a waved hand at the Angel. 

“Comin’ right up. Anything for you, doll?” She asks with a look at Sam. 

“Beer too, and a green salad. Can I add chicken to that?” He orders. 

“Sure thing.” With one final smile April is gone, and Dean gives his brother a dubious look. 

“Dude. It’s like we’re not even related.” Sam just shrugs and the table falls silent. 

April returns a minute later with three beers and drops them off with more smiles. Dean is somewhat surprised to see his napkin digit free, and just assumes that the woman is just a generally nice person. 

He takes a hearty swallow of the golden liquid. It’s light and refreshing on his tongue, and exactly what he needs after driving for nine hours. Across the table from him, he notices Castiel turning a little green. 

“Cas? You okay, man?” Dean asks quietly. He’s a little shocked. He’s never seen Castiel look this sick, except maybe when they were fighting Pestilence. 

“No. I feel like my vessel is going to be sick,” he finishes with a gag that makes Dean jump out of his seat and to his friends side. 

“Come on, let’s get you to the bathroom,” Dean soothes as he helps the other man out of the booth. Sam follows behind them, looking proportionately nervous. 

Thankfully, the men’s room is empty, as Dean helps Castiel into the handicapped stall. Just inside the Angel falls to his knees and gags again. 

“Dean? Is he okay?” Sam questions from outside the stall. He’s pacing and just the sound is making Dean nervous. 

“I don’t know, dude,” Dean snips. Castiel isn’t puking, but his whole body has started to tremble. 

Castiel let’s out a pained moan, that is only amplified by the toilet bowl and Dean shoots forward to help him. 

“Sonuvabitch!” Dean swears. Castiel is burning up, Dean can feel it through his clothes. “Sam, get in here!” 

Sam pushes his way into the stall just as the shaking intensifies. Both brothers watch, horrified, as the few body parts they can see start to break and shrink and rearrange themselves. Dean is sure that a normal person wouldn’t have survived it. 

The Angel moans again, and it hurts Dean to hear. 

Then, it’s over. The figure that was once Castiel sniffs, and tries to stand. Dainty knees lock and pretty soon Dean has arms full of a much lighter vessel. “Cas?” 

The head shoots up and Dean nearly blacks out. It’s Castiel, but it’s not Castiel. For one, it’s a woman. She’s wearing Castiel’s clothes, and has Castiel’s hair color but it's much longer than before. Her eyes are the same heavenly blue, and their filled with tears.  

“Dean? What happened to me?” She asks, and her voice is deep like Cas. 

“Cas? That you in there?” Dean whispers, because he’s nearly certain it is, but he can’t help asking. 

“Yes. Something appears to be wrong with my vessel,” she answers with a quick gaze down. 

The first thing that comes to Dean’s mind is no, there is absolutely nothing wrong with this vessel. Female Castiel is, to put it mildly, gorgeous. Her features are all small and delicate. Like Jimmy’s, her lips are plump and pink and a little chapped. Dean’s not even going to mention the sex hair and deep blue eyes. 

“What the hell just happened, Dean?” Sam breaths out from over Dean’s shoulder. Dean turns to see his brother taking in the Angel’s change much like he had. Instinctively, Dean pulls her a little closer. 

“It has to be the fucking witch curse, man,” Dean answers, because it’s the only thing that could cause this. “Cas, can you just fix yourself?” 

Castiel shakes her head. “No. My grace has been different ever since we got out of Purgatory. I’ve still been able to fly and preform small miracles, but nowhere near the power it would take to fix this.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean questions, then he realizes he has been subconsciously rubbing the Angel’s back and pulls away. 

“It was not of import,” she tells him. “However, now we have no way to fix this.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Dean says soothingly. He turns to his brother, who hasn’t been able to stop staring and snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Can you get April to box up our food?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Sam answers and flees the bathroom. 

“Why was Sam acting so strange?” Castiel asks and _holy shit,_ her voice. 

Dean rubs at the back of his neck nervously and clears his throat. “You just look different, is all.” He clears this throat a second time. “Speaking of which, you can’t leave here like this.” 

Castiel looks down at her suit and jacket that are practically swimming on her new frame. She can’t be more than five-four, and her pant legs are pooling at her feet. 

“Why don’t you just, uh, take off the pants and wrap the coat tight like a dress. And take off you’re shoes.” Castiel moves to do as Dean suggested, and the hunter has to smack a hand to his eyes before he sees more (or less) than he wants to see. He gives the woman a full minute before removing his hand. Castiel’s coat could definitely pass for a dress at first glance, especially after the belt was tied tight. 

Dean pulls out his phone and shoots a text to Sam, telling his brother that they’re going to go wait in the Impala, and turns to the woman. Flat footed, Castiel now barely reaches Dean’s shoulders and Dean has to force himself not to wrap an arm around her protectively. 

“Let’s get out of here. Then we can come up with a plan,” Dean says instead. Nobody was in the restroom with them, and a quick look out the bathroom door shows that nobody is looking their way. Together the two exit the bathroom and make it out of the restaurant without being spotted, despite the fact that Dean is carrying and extra pair of pants and shoes. 

Outside Dean opens the passenger side door of the Impala for Castiel, and she slides in smoothly, showing off an impressive span of leg. Once all of her appendages are inside the car, Dean slams the door and takes a deep breath through his nose. 

When that doesn’t help slow his heart rate, Dean bends to rest his forehead against the cool metal exterior of his baby. The sun has completely set and the temperature chance does as it should to relax the hunter. 

A throat clears itself behind him and he turns to see Sam, holding three take-out boxes. “What the hell are we going to do Sam?” Dean asks quietly. 

Sam shrugs helplessly. “Dean, those witches didn’t invent the curse. I doubt they’d have any idea how to break it.”

That hadn’t occurred to Dean and he swears under his breath. “So what? We just have to live with this?”

“I think we should keep heading to the bunker. I texted Kevin, he’s scouring the books now,” Sam offers instead. 

Dean nods, it was as good an idea as any. Awkwardly, Dean coughs. “This is going to be a long trip.”

Sam agrees silently and climbs into the backseat, handing Castiel her burger. 

========

They drive all night, and only pull of to get gas when they hit Rifle, Colorado. 

Dean moves to climb out to fill the tank, when he hears it. Castiel, who has fallen asleep in the passenger seat, let out a moan that is all too familiar. Sam leans forward at the sound, but he gets ignored. 

Dean can’t turn away. He watches, again, as Castiel’s body changes. 

It’s five thirty when the sun rises, and Castiel is a man again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Aren’t you a little freaked out?” Dean snapped at the Angel, turning when he didn’t speak up._
> 
> _“While the curse is an annoyance and quite painful, my gender has never been something I thought about,” he explained. “So no, I’m not ‘freaked out.’” Castiel finishes, making air quotes with his fingers._
> 
> _Dean huffs and crosses his arms over his chest like a child. “Well it freaks me out a little."_

“I’m gonna get whiplash,” Dean groans. 

He, his brother, and the now male Castiel are standing around the Impala in some Colorado gas station trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Dean has his back to the others, with both hands on the roof of his car. Sam is texting someone, Kevin maybe? Castiel, who has thankfully put his pants back on, just stands there and looked completely disinterested that he has changed genders, again. 

“Aren’t you a little freaked out?” Dean snaps at the Angel, turning when he didn’t speak up. 

“While the curse is an annoyance and quite painful, my gender has never been something I thought about,” he explains. “So no, I’m not ‘freaked out.’” Castiel finishes, making air quotes with his fingers. 

Dean huffs and crosses his arms over his chest like a child. “Well it freaks me out a little. Sam?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It is a little weird for us,” Sam agrees with his brother, while sliding his phone back into his pocket. “You have to understand that we’re used to you looking one way, and suddenly you’re different.”

Castiel furrows his brow and pouts. “Is my female form somehow displeasing?”

“No!” Dean vehemently denies a little too quickly and too loud. With a slight blush to his cheeks he adds, “you’re just a little distracting.”

The Angel tilts his head in confusion, then realization dawns and he nearly smiles. “I see. You find my form ascetically pleasing, therefore you find it hard to focus. I can understand now.”

There’s an awkward silence, where Dean (and even Sam) think of disagreeing, but ultimately don’t because it would be a lie. The moment is broken by Dean’s phone ringing. As much as he wants to ignore it, he doesn’t; he’s a hunter, and when hunters ignore their phone’s people tend to die. He pulls out the phone and the number isn’t one he recognizes, but he notices it has a Sioux Falls area code. 

“Hello?” He answers tentatively. 

“ _Dean? It’s Jody. Sheriff Mills,_ ” the woman responds. She sounds stressed, but not like she is in grave danger. Which is a plus. “ _Look, I’m having a little_ pest _problem, and I could really use your boys’ help._ ”

The way she says ‘pest’ tells Dean they’re looking at either weres or vamps, maybe a rogue leviathan. Normally, he would jump at a good old-fashioned hunt. Nothing was more cathartic than making heads roll, after all. 

“Who’s that?” Sam asks. 

Dean mouths ‘Jody’ and mimes slicing his throat with his free hand, adding ‘hunt.’ 

“Look, Jody. We’d love to help, but we’re kinda dealing with some shit over here,” Dean tells her with a sideways look at Castiel. The Angel looks a little offended at the remark. 

“ _You’re hunters, aren’t you? When aren’t you dealing with some shit?_ ” Jody replies in a stern voice. “ _In my experience, you sometimes gotta put that shit aside and do your job. Hunting’s still your job, isn’t it?_ ”

“She’s using her mom voice, isn’t she?” Sam interjects unhelpfully. Dean flips him the bird. 

Dean looks at his brother and friend, gauging their reactions. Sam looks curious, while Castiel just glares. The eldest Winchester can practically feel the Angel’s anger at being considered a hinderance. He can’t help it, though. As a woman, Castiel is still a badass Angel of the Lord, but it is bound to get tricky trying to hunt around the curse. 

In the end, it’s the fear that Castiel will just fly off on his own that makes us the hunters mind. “What are you dealin’ with?”

“ _Nest of Vampires, I think,_ ” Jody answers with genuine relief in her voice. “ _I’ve had to deal with it all off the books, but it’s getting bigger than I can manage._ ”

“We’re in Colorado now. We should be able to get there around seven,” Dean figures quickly, and because he doesn’t want to get blindsided again he asks, “When’s the sun setting there nowadays?”

“ _Maybe eight-thirty, nine. Why?_ ” She sounds confused, and rightfully so. 

“That shit we’re in? It’s kinda time sensitive. We’re gonna have to wait ’til after sunset before we can do much.” Dean knows his answer is cryptic, and he would be pissed to be on the receiving end of it, but he doesn’t want to completely freak the woman out. 

“ _Um, okay. I’ll send you my address. I’ll see you boys soon._ ” The phone clicks off and Dean stuffs the device back in his jacket pocket. 

“Looks like we’re goin’ huntin’,” he says cheerfully. “But I’m beat. You’re driving.” With a yawn he tosses the keys to his brother and climbs in the backseat. Sam and Castiel climb into the front, and pull back into the highway. 

Dean’s fast asleep before he has a chance to complain about his brothers music choice. 

==========

As Dean predicted, they pull into Jody’s driveway just after seven at night. Her house is quaint, like Bobby’s had been, but in obviously better shape. There’s a porch swing on the wrap-around, and little pots strategically placed along the railing. For a moment Dean can imagine Jody playing with her son in the yard, and feels a pang of sadness. She went through something horrible, and has found a way to bounce back. She’s nearly a Winchester in her own right. 

The three man slide out of the Impala, and climb the few steps to the front door. Dean notices Castiel checking the horizon over his shoulder anxiously, but doesn’t comment. 

The door opens almost immediately after Sam knocks, and Jody greets them with a smile. “Hey, there. How are you boys?” Her eyes fall on Castiel and she starts. “I don’t think I’ve met you.”

“I am Castiel,” the Angel greets, and he shakes Jody’s hand when she offers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hear you handled the rising of the dead in this town remarkably well.” Dean socks him in the arm when Jody’s smile falters. The hunter ends up bruising his hand, but otherwise gets his point across. “Oh. I am sorry. That was unkind. I am still learning what is considered polite in human conversation.”

“So you’re not? Human, I mean?” Jody asks as she leads the three towards the kitchen, where Dean is shocked to see a full meal prepared. There’s meatloaf, mashed potatoes and fresh corn on the cob. His mouth waters just looking at it. 

“I am an Angel of the Lord,” Castiel answers, “Though my power is much diminished from what it used to be.” 

“An angel?” Jody has frozen, stock-still, and is staring at Castiel with wide eyes. “Seriously?”

“Why does everyone assume I am being insincere?” Castiel ponders to nobody in particular. His attention is instead on the meal laid out in front of them. 

Jody follows his gaze and flushes, “I figured you’d be hungry.” 

“It’s great, thanks Jody,” Sam tells her. He’s smiling in a way Dean hasn’t seen in a while and it makes him happy. 

“Well, let’s eat and you can tell me about this time sensitive shit you’re in.” Jody reaches for a stack of plates and hands them out. With a nod of her head, the three men pile them with food, before following her into the small dining room. 

Over what is possibly the most amazing meal Dean has ever had, they tell Jody about Portland, the witches, and the curse. She seems more curious than anything, and can’t seem to stop stealing glances at Castiel. Dean figures she’s trying to picture the scruffy, well-built Angel as a woman. 

They’re still eating when Castiel quickly stands and excuses himself. A quick look out the window tells Dean that their meal went longer than he thought, and that the sun has nearly set. This time, he allows Castiel the chance to change in private, but nearly loses his resolve when he hears his friends quiet moans of pain. 

“It hurts him, doesn’t it?” Jody asks quietly. 

“Looks awful,” Dean tells her. “I doubt he’d be able to handle it if he were human.”

The sheriff nods grimly and busies herself picking up their empty plates. They’re soaking in the sink when the bathroom door swings open and Castiel steps out. 

Like the night before she’s merely slipped off her pants and shoes, and tied the coat around her waist like a dress. 

Jody takes the change in appearance like a professional and tuts at Castiel’s clothes. “I imagine those boys didn’t have anything else for you to wear, but I do. Come on.” With a hand on Castiel’s back, the older woman guides the angel up a flight of stairs. Their conversation is hushed as they footsteps echo upstairs where Jody’s room is, no doubt. 

“Do we have a plan to break this curse?” Dean asks his brother when he’s sure they won’t be overheard. As much as he likes looking at the new, female Castiel, he doesn’t want his friend to be stuck changing genders indefinitely. 

“I don’t know. I called Garth while you were sleeping earlier. He’s going to put the word out that we’re looking for a witch named Alex. And Kevin’s digging through the archives.” Sam shrugs. “There’s nothing more we can do right now. We’re just lucky Cas isn’t really bothered by it.”

Dean nods, because it’s true. He thinks back to that night, and remembers something he can’t believe he’d forget. “He took the curse for me,” he whispers. “I remember him yelling at me. He must have intercepted it.”

“Then we’re really lucky. If you miraculously changed genders, you’d spend all your time in front of the mirror,” Sam says to break the tension. 

Dean smirks. “Come on, man! I’d have titties! You can’t say you wouldn't do the same.”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam fake gags and punches his brother in the arm. 

The floorboards creak and the two brothers turn to see Castiel and Jody reenter the dining room. Jody, as Dean knew she would, dressed Castiel in hunt-appropriate clothes. She’s now wearing a pair of jean’s that are leaning on the side of skinny but not tight, plain white tennis shoes, and a dark blue T-shirt. The soft cotton is formfitting, accentuating her small breasts. Jody has even taken the time to pull her much longer hair into a neat braid. 

“We’re lucky we’re the same size,” Jody comments with a look towards Castiel, who smiles back at the other woman. Dean is speechless, because its the most normal he’s ever seen the Angel look. And she looks good. 

“Yeah, looks good, Cas,” Dean mumbles. His brother sends him a weird look, but doesn’t call him out on it. 

“So, ready to talk Vampires?” Jody asks the three. Everyone nods and the group moves towards the living room, though Jody makes a detour into the kitchen to grab a few beers. 

Sam takes one of the armchairs, leaving Dean and Castiel to share the loveseat. Jody pulls a spare chair in from the dining room, and straddles it. Once the beers are dispersed, she starts to explain. “So a couple weeks ago, a bunch of folks moved over to the old Foreman farm. I’ve never been one to judge, but they’re a really rowdy bunch. 

“Then a few girls wound up dead. It was pretty obvious. Gnawed on jugular, exsanguination, the whole shebang. I followed one of them back to the Foreman’s, so I know it’s them. Problem is there’s about twelve of them. Way more than I can handle myself,” Jody finishes with a large drink from her bottle. 

Dean’s made himself comfortable on the small couch, right ankle on left knee and left arm draped along the back. He has a happy smile on his face as he lifts his own bottle to his lips. “It’s been way too long since I’ve killed a vamp,” he says nostalgically. 

Castiel gives him a dry look from Dean’s left, where she’s drifted just slightly towards the hunters side. “We spend a full year killing vampires in Purgatory.”

“Yeah, that was like a month ago, Cas,” Dean argues. “Too long.”

Sam is giving the two a strange look between intrigued and disgusted. He clears whatever’s in his head with a little shake, and turns his attention towards Jody. “It’s good you called us. We shouldn’t go now, though. Vamps are too strong during the night. We should go tomorrow, just after dawn.”

“You’re the experts,” Jody says. “I have a couple spare rooms, if you’d like to stay here.”

Dean sends her a salute with his empty bottle. “You’re awesome, Jody.” 

“Thank you,” she replies with a smile. 

The four fall into a easy conversation, that lasts to nearly midnight. Dean’s the first to fall asleep, without even trying to make it to a bedroom. He just slips sideways, his head falling onto Castiel’s shoulder, where it stays until dawn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Who knows,” Sam says with a frown. “I hate to say it, but that’s more than the four of us can handle.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Castiel is nodding in agreement beside him. “Would it be wise to call in another hunter?” He asks._
> 
> _“Man, I hate bringin’ in others,” Dean grumbles. The group drifts into silence, only interrupted by the shuffling of papers and the occasional shout from the hallway._
> 
> _“What if we called the vampire Benny?” Castiel offers. Dean’s head snaps up and he wants to smack his own forehead. Of course, Benny. His friend would be more than willing to help, and definitely has the experience._

Dean wakes in the living room, alone, just after seven. He can’t remember falling asleep on the couch the night before, but doesn’t put it past himself. After years of not always having a place to spend the night, Dean has grown used to sleeping wherever he could. With a yawn and a back-cracking stretch, Dean stands and follows the smell of coffee to the kitchen. 

Castiel’s at the table with a cup of coffee (black, like Dean taught him) wearing his suit and trench coat again. He sends Dean a good morning head nod, which Dean copies groggily. 

“Where’re Sam and Jody?” He asks as he pours himself a mug of coffee. 

“Sam wanted to see the police reports on the bodies. Sheriff Mills and he left for the police station just a few moments ago,” Castiel informs him. “I was told to wait for you awaken, then we could join them.”

“Awesome.” Dean downs the hot liquid. “Let me just change real quick. Then we can go.”

From the trunk of the Impala Dean pulls out his suit. He still hates the thing, but knows now that it’s essential for a smooth lie. Once he’s dressed he swallows another cup of coffee and then Dean and Castiel are on the road, speeding towards the police station. The silence around them starts out comfortable, like it normally is, but then Dean’s mind wanders to the curse, as it has been doing the last couple days. 

“Are you really okay? With everything that’s happened?” He asks during the lull when the tape ends, and before he flips it over. 

Castiel doesn’t take his eyes off the road when he speaks. “I am, Dean, truly. If I am honest, I am mostly just curious about it. It’s a complex spell. Alex, if that is her real name, must have been a very competent witch.”

“What’d’ya mean?” Dean wonders. It’s the first time Castiel has gone in-depth about what the curse was like, and he can’t help but be curious.

“For starters when I’m a woman, I feel almost human. I imagine my depleted Grace is trying so hard to right the change, that there isn’t much left for anything else. But even beyond that, everything feels so real. When I think, the voice in my head is different, when I think about the future it’s _that_ body I see.” the Angel explains. “Again, I wonder what it would feel like if I were fully human.”

At that, Dean clears his throat awkwardly. “About that, Cas. Did you take the curse for me?”

Castiel shifts in his seat to face the hunter. “Of course. Dean, you were placed under my charge many years ago. Therefore it is my job to protect you. Did you really think that would ever not be the case?” The way he says it, with so much conviction, makes Dean feel equally lucky and uncomfortable. He’s never had anyone care about him that much, except maybe Sammy but even his brother has left him on occasion.

“No, man, I guess not.” He can see the Sioux Falls police department ahead of them and is determined to get the words that have been stuck in his head out before they leave the car. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

A smile slides across Cas’ lips, and it transforms his whole face. Dean is struck with a longing to see the Angel make that face more often. “You don’t need to thank me, Dean.”

Once the Impala is parked the two exit, and walk into the station. The officer behind the desk must have been waiting for Dean, because he doesn’t even ask to see a badge. “Your partner and Sheriff Mills are in her office, Agents.” The officer, who’s name tag reads Thompson, waves vaguely towards the back of the building, then goes back to scanning whatever’s on the computer screen. Dean nods in thanks and pulls Castiel towards Jody’s office. 

Dean catches a crestfallen expression on the Angel’s face as they round the corner, leaving Thompson behind. “What’s with the kicked puppy look?”

“I’ve been practicing with the fake F.B.I. badge you gave me, and have yet to use it,” he answers (a little too loudly for the middle of a Police Department) with a shrug. 

Dean remembers that first case he worked with the Angel and lets out a laugh. The guy had been beyond awkward for the entire thing. He had been so frustrated then, but now it stands out as a fond memory. Castiel’s first real hunt. Dean should make a tacky Christmas ornament for the occasion. 

The Angel turns to him with a glare, and Dean holds his hands in front of him in surrender. “Sorry, man. Just reminiscing is all. Why don’t you show me what you’ve been practicin’?”

Castiel stops in his tracks and, with a determined look on his face, pulls his fake badge out of his pocket. He flips it open with determination, showing the tin is right side up, then snaps it closed. It isn’t until it’s safety in his pocket that the serious face lifts and in its place is a happy smile. “See?”

“Look’s great, buddy. I promise, I’ll let you flash the fuzz next time,” Dean placates. Castiel nods as if to say _I wouldn’t have it any other way_. 

The glass door that reads ‘Sheriff Jody Mills’ is closed, and Dean knocks jovially. “Room service!” He chirps as he opens the door. Sam and Jody give him unamused stares from their seat on a small couch. In front of them are files filled with pictures and descriptions of the bodies found. “Man, everyone’s a critic.” 

Dean and Castiel settle into two available chairs, Castiel sitting properly while Dean chooses to straddle the back. “What are you thinking, Sammy?”

His brother picks up one of the files and passes it over. “I’d say Jody was right about the vamps, but I’m concerned about the numbers. She says she saw about a dozen around the farmhouse, but the bodies plus stolen blood from banks and hospitals put their number at closer to twenty.”

Dean thumbs through the file and whistles. “Yeah, that looks about right. Why are there so damn many?” Dean wonders aloud. 

“Who knows,” Sam says with a frown. “I hate to say it, but that’s more than the four of us can handle.”

Castiel is nodding in agreement beside him. “Would it be wise to call in another hunter?” He asks. 

“Man, I hate bringin’ in others,” Dean grumbles. The group drifts into silence, only interrupted by the shuffling of papers and the occasional shout from the hallway. 

“What if we called the vampire Benny?” Castiel offers. Dean’s head snaps up and he wants to smack his own forehead. Of course, Benny. His friend would be more than willing to help, and definitely has the experience. 

“You’re a genius, Cas. I’ll call him,” the eldest Winchester says with a grin at his friend. He pulls out his cellphone, and sends a quick message off to the Vampire. 

“Wait. We’re calling another vampire?” Jody asks. She’s frowning, but in confusion and not anger. 

“He’s a friend, and he kinda hates vamps,” Dean explains just as his phone chirps with a new message. ‘Sounds good to me brother. I’m only a few hours away. Don’t do anything until I get there,’ it reads. Dean is a little amused by the vampires grammar. “He’s on the road. We can’t do anything until he get’s here, so we may have to wait until after dark after all.”

“You’re the experts, boys.” Jody smiles and shuffles the files into a more organized pile. “Since we have time to kill, what do you say to getting some breakfast?”

Dean’s face lights up as he replies, “Sheriff, I think you just read my mind. Where can I get good pie around her?” 

It’s almost comical how synchronized Sam and Castiel’s eye rolls are. 

==========

The foursome are back at Jody’s when Benny and his deathtrap-camper arrive in Sioux Falls. It’s early afternoon, and they just finished putting together a lunch of pasta salad and coca-colas. 

Dean opens the door after his friend knocks with a smile. “Hey, Benny.”

The southern vampire pulls the hunter into a hug, which is reciprocated. “It’s been too long, brother.”

“To be honest, it’s a good thing we haven’t run into each other yet,” Dean admits seriously. “You okay? Staying straight?”

The vampire nods as he crosses the threshold into Jody’s home. “Of course. You need not worry about me, Dean.”

Dean claps a hand on his friends shoulder in agreement, and leads the other man farther into the house. Sam greets him with a firm handshake, and when Jody goes to do the same Benny snags her hand and places a kiss to the back of her palm, making the sheriff blush. 

“How’re you doin’ Angel?” Benny asks of the celestial being. 

Castiel smiles and replies. “I’m doing well. Thank you for asking.”

The kitchen starts to feel too small, with four full grown men and one woman crammed inside. Unanimously, they each grab their dinner plates and move towards the living room. Like the night before, Sam commandeers the armchair while Dean and Castiel choose to share the loveseat, leaving Jody and Benny to sit on chairs brought in from the dining room. 

It’s easy to get Benny caught up on the situation. The biggest wrinkle comes when Benny theorizes that, with upwards of twenty vampires in the nest, they probably have a secondary hidey hole somewhere in town. 

Jody uses her badge to get the records of properties sold within the last month, and finds there is only one. It was an old abandoned distillery; the perfect place for a bunch of bloodsuckers to sleep out the day. 

The plan was decided, then, that the only way to fight back was to time a simultaneous duel attack. Dean and Castiel would go to the distillery, while the other three would hit the farmhouse. 

Part of Dean wants to leave immediately, and catch them while they're weak, but the idea was shot down. Firstly, because Jody still needs some practice swinging a machete with accuracy. She grumbles a bit about it, though relents when she can’t slice through a nearby watermelon with one swing. Secondly, because they don't know how long the whole thing would take. And if one thing was going to fuck up a mission, it would be one of their hunting party spontaneously changing genders at sundown. 

Benny had seemed intrigued when he heard about the spell. He hadn’t had any run-ins with witches prior to Purgatory, and didn’t realize what they were capable of. Aside from that, he seems a little too interested in what a Mrs. Jimmy Novak looks like. He also sends some curious looks Deans way. _That_ definitely makes a weird feeling settle in Dean’s chest. He decides to ignore it, and just sends a (fake-not-fake) glare his way. 

They're more prepared for sunset than they had been the previous night. Before Castiel can even ask for them, Jody hands over the pile of clothes the Angel wore earlier. Castiel gives the sheriff a grateful smile and retreats to the bathroom. 

Castiel must have gotten used to the feeling of his bones breaking a reforming, because Dean doesn't hear a single sound from the bathroom aside from the subtle squeaking when the door opens.

Sam and Jody are deep in a conversation about _something_ , and not paying attention to the Angel’s reentrance to the room, but Dean is. He keeps watching, and looking for some kind of sign that Castiel is uncomfortable, but the Angel looks normal. 

Beside him Benny lets out a pleased noise, and Dean hops up. He needs to start beheading _now_. “Let’s get out of here, Cas.” He turns to the group. “Nine o’clock on the dot. Don’t be late. We’ll rendezvous here afterward.”

Castiel places a hand on Dean’s shoulder and the last thing he processes before they're angel’d away is how her hand is directly above where his scar used to be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I wonder what’s up with him?” Dean wonders quietly._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _“He’s finding it very hard not to picture us having sexual intercourse. It’s making him extremely uncomfortable,” Castiel answers matter-of-factly. Dean flushes. Now that Cas’s said it, Dean can’t stop seeing it. “It’s all quite romantic, actually.”_
> 
> _“Cas!” Dean hates how whiney he sounds, “stop talking about it. Please.”_
> 
> _“Ah, I apologize. It must sounds strange to you because you already find this body sexually attractive.”_

They land in the parking lot of a Starbucks, which Dean was not expecting. He looks around expecting to see a hipster freaking out over them spontaneously appearing, but there isn’t one. He’s secretly a little disappointed. Then he remembers that their meant to be on a hunt. “Why’re we here, Cas?”

“You seemed anxious to leave the others, but we still have twenty-seven and a half minutes before nine,” the Angel explains. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to spent that time just waiting in silence.”

Oh. Well that makes sense. And Dean can admit that he may have been a bit hasty in leaving Jody’s. He just wanted to get away from Benny’s stares. He glances at the Angel and has to amend his thoughts. He just wanted to get _Cas_ away from Benny’s stares. The vampire was being far from lecherous, and he would never harm the angel, but something about his scrutiny irked Dean. 

“I guess you’re right, Cas,” Dean concedes. The coffee shop ahead of him is, surprisingly, still open and nearly empty. “Let’s get some joe.”

Before, when Castiel was exclusively male, it never seemed weird to throw an arm around the angel’s shoulder. He did it in camaraderie and familiarity. When he does it now, however, it feels weird. Castiel was now a good head shorter than the hunter, and feels warm against Dean’s side. It probably has something to do with the whole ‘Grace fighting against the spell and making her more human’ thing. 

Dean does’t want to get caught up in psychoanalyzing himself, so he pushes those thoughts away as he pushes open the door to the darkly lit Starbucks. The lone employee looks relieved to have some business and stands a little straighter behind the counter. 

“How are you two this evening?” He asks. The kid has to be seventeen, and has a bad case of teenage acne across his straight nose. Dean watches amused, as he looks at them both with a strange sort of wonder. 

“We’re doin’ alright, kid,” Dean answers with his award-winning smile. “I’ll just take a large coffee. Cas? You want some coffee?”

Castiel doesn’t answer right away, and Dean turns towards her with a raised brow. The angel was staring at the menu like she looked at the Porno that one time, with nine parts intrigue and one part confusion. “What is a frappuccino?”

The kid behind the counter looks like he doesn’t know how to answer, and Dean feels a little bad for him. He'd probably grown up on the stuff, and trying to describe it must be like describing the color red. “It’s, uh, a blended drink with coffee and milk and sugar and shit. Kinda a fru-fru drink,” Dean explains with a shrug at the barista. 

Castiel actually scoffs. “Well that sounds superfluous. I’ll have coffee as well,” the angel orders. The poor barista nods slowly as he rings them up for the drinks. Dean watches him throw looks over his shoulder at them when he turns to fill their cups. 

“That’ll be $3.54,” the kid says as he slides two large coffees across the counter. 

The angel pulls a five dollar bill out of her back pocket (when did she get money?) and hands it to the boy. “Thank you, Kyle.”

“Uh, you’re welcome,” the barista, Kyle, stutters. Dean sends the kid a smile and a ‘what can I say?’ look and picks up his coffee. That’s when he realizes he still has his arm around the angel’s shoulder. He thinks about removing it, but it’s too late to take it back now. 

“Come on, Cas.” Dean led the angel towards a small table out of earshot of the barista. He was able to remove his arm, discreetly, from Castiel’s shoulder when he drops himself into one of the overstuffed chairs. 

He takes a sip of his coffee, it’s bitter but thankfully hot. It’ll definitely help when it comes time to take out the nest. Nothing is better than espresso in his veins when he’s got a machete in his hand. “Whoops,” Dean mumbles. In his haste to leave Jody’s, he went and forgot the one thing that was pretty essential for a vamp hunt. A glance at the barista show’s the teen still looking their way, and leans in a little closer so he won’t be overheard. “Hey Cas? You don’t happen to have a machete hidden in that bottomless trench coat, do you?”

The angel shook her head, and let out an uncharacteristic laugh. “Yes, Dean. I have every weapon we could need.” 

Dean grins and gives Castiel’s knee a squeeze. “I don’t what I’d do without you, Cas. Tonight is gonna be _fun_.”

Behind them, Kyle sputters and drops what sounds like a blender on the floor. Dean turns to see the boy trying to pick up the appliance and completely red in the face. “I wonder what’s up with him?” Dean wonders quietly. 

“He’s finding it very hard not to picture us having sexual intercourse. It’s making him extremely uncomfortable,” Castiel answers matter-of-factly. Dean flushes. Now that Cas’s said it, Dean can’t stop seeing it. “It’s all quite romantic, actually.”

“Cas!” Dean hates how whiney he sounds, “stop talking about it. Please.”

“Ah, I apologize. It must sounds strange to you because you already find this body sexually attractive.” Castiel replies with a little head tilt. "I must admit, what he's imagining does have an appealing quality to it."

Dean can actually feel his brain stop working. Again, he has to remind himself that this is his _best friend_ , not some random chick. "What are you sayin', Cas?"

The angel actually flushes and averts her gaze away from Dean. "I've never had any sexual experiences, Dean. Nor have I really had any desire to. But the way Kyle sees it makes it seem especially sensual, which appeals to me." 

"But you were married to that Daphne chick," Dean balks. 

"I can assure you, that was not a normal relationship. I believe Daphne didn't want to have relations any more than I did." Castiel actually looks a little chest-fallen, and Dean immediately feels bad. 

"How is that possible? You were hot!" It takes a second for Dean to realize what he said, and he immediately regrets it. Letting the angel know that her female form gets his gears turning is one thing. But admitting that dude-Cas is equally hot? That's just embarrassing. 

Castiel saves him the humiliation of responding by standing abruptly. “It’s time, Dean.”

Before Dean has a chance to beg his friend to at least leave the shop first, Castiel grips his hand and transports them away from the coffee shop. 

For the second time that night, Dean lands in a parking long, only this time a large abandoned factory stands in front of him. 

“Give a guy a little warning, Cas!” Dean’s stomach rolls and he can feel the coffee start to turn on him. He shakes his head. He is _not_ going to loose his stomach after a simple ride on the Angel Airwaves. 

“I apologize, again.” Wordlessly Castiel reaches both hands into her trench coat, and pulls out an angel blade and machete, one in each hand. With a hint of a smile, Castiel hands over the blade. 

Dean takes it, and straightens to his full height. With a roll of his shoulders and a fake slice of the blade he is able to banish all thoughts that don't involve separating some heads from some shoulders. “Let’s do this. How long till the carriage turns back to a pumpkin?”

“I don’t understand that reference, but it is exactly eight fifty-eight and fifty-three seconds.” Castiel herself stands a little taller, and Dean is impressed with her ability to still look badass and imposing, despite her small frame. 

“Let’s start this party, then,” Dean snipes with a smile as he walks towards the building. The hunter and the angel stand shoulder to shoulder at exactly nine o’clock. “Showtime,” Dean whispers. Then he kicks in the door. 

It takes a second for Dean to take in every square foot of the room, and he sees a total of eleven vamps. It's a lot, but not too many that Cas and himself can’t handle. 

“Well our invite must have gotten lost in the mail,” Dean yells, not that every bloodsucker’s attention wasn’t already on him. “What’dya say? Got room for two more?”

The closest vampire, a short African-American woman with curly hair, moves first. With a primal scream she throws herself towards the angel. Castiel's ready, and stabs her through the chest with her blade. The holy metal slices through skin and flesh and bone like butter, and the vampire has a split second to look confused before it burns from the inside out.

After that it was open war. 

Two vampires jumped at Dean while three went for Cas. Dean had his hands full but has enough sense to yell, “You alright, Cas?”

“Of course, Dean,” the angel replies as she plunges her whole fist into a skinny teenage vampire and smites it from the inside. 

Dean feels a smile pull at his lips and chuckles as he swings his machete, catching another vampire by surprise. 

Together the two fight against the nest. Dean feels good as he brings down his fourth and fifth vamp with a single swing. For a split second he has a chance to watch Castiel jump on the back of a busty, blonde vamp and wrap one arm around her shoulders while the other reaches around and stabs the blade straight through the vampire's chest. 

The angel hisses through her teeth, and when the vampire falls Dean can see why. The angelic weapon had gone so far through the vampire that the tip protruded from the creatures back, slicing Cas just under her left breast. 

“Cas! You okay?” Dean calls. A quick look around the room and Dean sees that they only have two vampires left. He knows her can handle them, and give the angel time to heal. Without thinking he charges the final two monsters and tackles them to the ground. He throws the machete, catching one in the throat while he pounds into the one beneath him with his fists. 

With a growl the vampire flips them and returns the punches. He hisses, and his long fangs drop to cover his more human teeth. Before the creature has a chance to bit down on Dean’s jugular, Castiel appears, pulling the animal back and smiting it out of existence. 

Dean jumps to his feel and takes a step back to lean against the nearest wall, chest heaving. He can feel the tell tale sign of his adrenaline searching for an outlet and he knows he's fucked. For as long as Dean can remember, he has had a hard time distinguishing between post-hunt and pre-fuck adrenalin. It’s why he tends to flee the hunt site to go celebrate at a bar and with pleasant company.  

Now is no different. 

He’s standing in a dirty warehouse that smells like piss and vomit and blood, and he’s never felt more alive. The endorphins are making his skin tingle, like a limb regaining its feeling, and his heart is jackrabbiting in his chest. 

Castiel is now beside him. He hasn’t turned his head, so he can’t see her, but he can feel her like some kind of homing beacon. Dean’s never asked the Angel about it, but he bets it has something to do with being raised from perdition. It’s like a sixth sense; a Castiel sense. 

The curse makes the Angel more human in her female form, and Dean can hear her trying to catch her breath next to him. She had been incredible. Beheading and smiting without discretion, despite her limited power. If there was one thing Castiel knew how to do, as a man or woman, it was be a badass motherfucker. 

And watching Cas, hot female Cas, fight those vamps has got to be one of the most erotic things Dean has ever seen. 

“That was fuckin’ awesome, Cas,” Dean says breathlessly. He realizes with slight mortification that the post-hunt-pre-fuck confusion has his dick half hard in his jeans. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Castiel slump against the wall next to him, and lean her head against the brick with a _thunk_. The position elongates her smooth, tanned neck and Dean gulps. 

“We have always made a fantastic team, Dean,” she replies. 

Dean watches, transfixed as she takes deep breaths of air. Ever inhale expands her ribcage and pushes her small chest out just enough to make Dean’s mouth water. His body doesn't seem to care that this is his witch-cursed _male_ best friend, and forces his semi into full-blown wood in two seconds flat. 

He had never admitted out loud, until earlier, that he had always found Castiel at least a little good looking. Wether that was because of the manly-man stigma in the Hunting community, or because of his own fears, Dean didn't know. Now it was out in the open and Dean felt a little lighter for it. Castiel was a hot dude, and Dean always kinda thought about what that meant. 

Now, though, looking at the Angel all Femme Fatale, makes those no-guy-stop thoughts disappear. 

Unknowing to what was happening below Dean’s belt, Castiel turns her head and regards Dean with wide blue eyes. “You’re hurt.”

Dean scrunches his nose and _huh_. That vamp must have broken his nose, he just hadn’t noticed. Castiel reaches out with her right hand and gently cups the hunters jaw. It feels different from her normal two-finger-to-the-forehead healing routine.

Better different.

 _Much_ better different. 

The sliver of Grace that zings from his injured nose down to the tips of his toes is by far the sexiest thing he’s ever felt. 

Dean doesn't realize he was holding himself back until his left hand was grabbing at Cas’ raised wrist and pinning it to the brick above the Angel’s head. His hips follow his hands lead, and hold Castiel fast against the wall. Castiel pulls in a quick breath, but doesn't push him away. Dean catches her eye, and almost looses it at the mixture of awe and lust that's plain as day in the way her pupils have dilated. The normally bright blue is merely just a slim ring around the black. 

“You need to tell me if this is okay,” he whispers, ghosting his free hand from Castiel’s left temple down down _down_ until it lands on her hip. Castiel nods, and he gave her taut waist a squeeze. “I need to hear you say it, Cas.”

“Yes, Dean. This is okay.” And _fuck_ if her voice didn’t light Dean’s fire. 

He doesn’t need to hear anymore before his lips are on hers. Their tongues slide together like they’d been doing it for years, and Dean instinctively rolls his hips forward. The little gasp that tumbles from her lips eggs him on and he does it again. He thrusts forward again and again, hitching her higher up the wall with every movement. 

Strong legs are suddenly wrapped around his waist and he moans against Cas’ clavicle where he's busy biting and sucking a mark against the skin. “So fucking incredible, Cas.” The Angel’s nails scrape against his skull in reply. 

As he kisses a line along her jaw, Dean’s mind wanders to what it would feel like if the jaw was hard and stubbled instead of soft and smooth. His dick twitches in his pants. It's clear that the idea of being in this position with a male Castiel is equally as arousing. 

They continue to dry hump and make out like teenagers until Dean feels the familiar heat start to coil in his belly. “Oh God, Cas. I’m gonna come. You close?”

Castiel nods and thrusts down against Dean’s jean-covered dick. Her mouth opens, her eyes go wide, and she comes with a whine and low moan. Dean covers her mouth, wanting to swallow those fucking sounds, and comes as well. 

He hasn’t come in his pants since he was a high schooler, and when he had he’d leave the girls’ houses feeling embarrassed and dumb. Not this time, though. This time Dean feels sated and boneless and goddamn content. 

Castiel must feel the same way, because she drops her legs from his waist and straightens before him on shaky knees. Her cheeks are flushed, and there is a gorgeous array of hickies decorating her neck and shoulders. Dean wants to memorize her, just like this. 

With a heartwarming smile, Castiel frames Dean’s hands with her hands (softer than male Cas and so warm) and smiles. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean flushes and wraps his hands around her wrists. “You don’t need to thank me, Cas.” Then, because he feels like it, he turns his head and kisses one palm, then switches sides and kisses the other. “Let’s go find the others.”

The Angel trails her hands down his face to his shoulders and farther still until she has both of Dean’s hands in her own. She gives them a happy squeeze. Then they fly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Yeah, I guess it has. But listen, I need some information from you about a hit you put out.” Garth was silent, and Anya took that as a sign to keep talking. “It would have been put on a witch named Alex.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!! Sorry about such a long wait between posts. For that, I'm giving you two chapters at once! Yay! It's still unbeta'd so let me know if there are issues.

The bell dings over the shop door. “I’ll be right with you!” Anya yells from her office. The morning had been slow, and she has been using the time to catch up on some special orders. A hunter in Des Moines was waiting for a number of specialty hexbags, and Anya hates being behind. 

“Take you’re time,” a voice calls back and Anya swears under her breath. “It’s not like you haven’t seen your mother in six years.”

“Yeah, with good fuckin’ reason,” Anya mumbles. 

Growing up Anya and her mother had been close. Anya’s father had died when she was a baby, and her mother had never remarried. It had been the two of them for years. Anya’s mother always made sure that Anya never wanted for anything. 

Of course, for years Anya didn’t know that it was magic that kept their lives afloat. 

When Anya was fourteen she walked in on her mother preforming a ritual, and been entranced like any teenage girl who grew up on Charmed and Sabrina the Teenage Witch would be. She had begged to learn, and her mother had taken her under her wing. It started out small, and entirely white magic. Anya had taken to it like a moth to a flame; soaking it up like a sponge. 

When Anya was seventeen she met Anthony, and had fallen in love with him. He didn’t know about what she could do, and Anya was tempted to tell him. He loved everything about her, and would surely support her in her witchcraft. The night that Anya had decided to tell him, to divulge the deepest secret she had, he confessed to cheating on her. Anya had been heartbroken, and Anthony had been remorseful. 

Anya had sent him away, and cried to her mother about her broken heart. 

The next day, Anthony was dead. 

That’s when Anya discovered that her mother was also into dark magic; had always been into dark magic. She had only hid it from her daughter until she deemed Anya ready. 

Anya had screamed herself hoarse. Anthony had been cruel, had made a mistake, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Her mother hadn’t agreed, spewing vile words about how unfaithful men deserved to burn in Hell. That night Anya packed a bag and left home. She made enough money reading tarot cards and palms to travel away from Oakland and move farther north. Once she made it to Seattle she stopped. It seemed as good a city as any. She found a hostel to stay in and immediately started looking for work.

It was luck, really, that Anya found The Herbalist to begin with. She had been in Seattle for a week and was completely lost. And then, because Anya's day couldn't get worst, it started to pour. In a second, Anya was soaked from her hair down to the marrow of her bones. She screamed at the Heavens, then opened the first door she could reach.

The shop she found herself in was cozy and felt more like home than her old home had. The walls were covered in dark wooden shelves. On the shelves sat old books, trinkets, and jars of herbs and salves.

"You look like you could use a cup of tea," the old man behind the counter had said with a smile. "You got a lot on your mind, dontcha dear?"

Anya nodded, because she did have a lot on her mind, and tea sounded fabulous.

The man was named Peter. He had owned The Herbalist for almost fifty years, sold primarily to a group of people he called hunters, and was a white witch. He had a wife, Amanda, who had died, and no children. He said he'd always wanted a daughter.

Anya had smiled, and told him she had never had a father.

For years she worked with Peter, learning everything pertaining to white magic he knew, as well as the ins and outs of hunting. Anya herself didn't have the stomach for beheading and stabbing, but found she had an affinity for creating powerful hexbags and protection talismans.

Her mother had attempted to contact Anya numerous times in the first year. She ignored it. Her mother was a wretched woman who deserved to stew in thoughts of what she's done. It wasn't until three years ago, when Anya was twenty that she finally answered her mother's call.

They corresponded every month or so, but never saw each other. And Anya was happy with the arrangement. That her mother was here now was not a good sign.

With one final sigh Anya pushes herself away from her workbench and thanks her lucky stars that Peter isn't in today. His opinion of Anya's mother is, if possible, worst than her own.

Her mother stands at one of the display cases, looking over their selection of Angel feathers. To most people they are expensive decorations, but to hunters they're an invaluable tool. "Hello, Alex. You're looking well." She did. Anya guesses black magic has it's perks.

"That is no way to welcome your mother," Alex tskes. "But I'm not here for pleasantries. It seems I'm in a little bit of a pickle."

"What'd you do now?" Anya asks sharply, because it is just like her mother to cause trouble.

Alex picks up one of their rare, black feathers and twists it between her fingers. The feather catches the light and shines a brilliant midnight blue. It's beautiful, and one of Anya's favorites.

"Well, I'm not really sure. Somehow there's been a hunter's hit put out on me," Alex is unnervingly nonchalant.

"What?" Anya screeches. "Mom! What did you do?"

"I don't know. I've done a lot of things." Finally Alex turns to face her daughter and frowns. "What did you do to your hair?"

Alex reaches a manicured hand towards her daughter and pulls a white blonde strand. "I dyed it!" Anya pulls her hair back and just barely restrains herself from smacking her mothers hand away. "Stop changing the subject. What did you do?”

"I don't know, Anastasia! It was just after those women kicked me out of that coven in Portland. Maybe they blamed some of their shit on me," Alex says with a shrug. "You know hunters. I thought you could put out the fire. Vouch for me or something,” Alex tucks a piece of brown hair behind her ear and smiles all vinegar sweet. “I honestly didn’t do anything those men didn’t deserve.”

“I highly doubt that, and I refuse to put out your fires,” responds Anya strongly. “If that’s all you wanted to see me for you can leave. I have work I need to get back to.”

Alex shrugs and pulls a scarf out of her purse. She wraps the scarf around her hair like she used to do when Anya was a girl. “Well, then I guess our little reunion is over. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Alex makes her way gracefully towards the shop’s front door. Her fingertips just brushed the knob when she pauses and turns. “You really should do something different with your hair. It washes you out.”

Anya doesn’t glorify Alex’s last words with a response, and is soon alone in the shop. She counts to ten, breathing through her nose to calm herself. When she feels her heart rate return to normal she walks to the shop phone and pulls Peter’s special rolodex from the desk. Most of the cards have large deceased stamps on them, which Anya refuses to cry over. She flips to the F’s and pulled out the card she needs. 

The phone rings only once before the call is picked up on the other end. “ _You’ve reached Garth_ ,” the man answers. Anya has never met Garth, but he is a nice enough guy who has done a fine job taking over for Bobby. 

“Hey, Garth. It’s Anya. I work with Peter at The Herbalist,” she replies nicely. 

“ _Anya! Girl, it’s been a time an a half since I’ve heard from you_.” Anya can’t help but smile at his sunny disposition. 

“Yeah, I guess it has. But listen, I need some information from you about a hit you put out.” Garth is silent, and Anya takes that as a sign to keep talking. “It would have been put on a witch named Alex.”

“ _Oh boy! You have info for me_?” Garth asks, sounding hopeful and scared at the same time. 

“Well, sort of. Let’s just say I may be able to help whoever she’s hurt. Do you know them?” Anya crosses her fingers that the hunter hurt was someone she already knows, that would make the whole explanation process a whole lot simpler. 

“ _Oh yeah. Sam and Dean and I go way back_.” Anya tries to hold in a groan, because she’s heard plenty about the Winchester brothers, and was hoping to stay far away. From what she’s heard, they have a shoot first, ask questions later policy. “ _Want me to give you a few numbers to try_?”

“Sounds good,” Anya says with as much false confidence as she can manage. Garth believes her and rattles off a few telephone numbers. 

“ _Oh! And if you get ahold of them just tell them that I gave you their number and that I still love a good Thighslapper_.” Anya chuckles but writes down the note. “ _Actually, if their on a case they might not answer any of those. If they don’t call Kevin Tran. He kinda works with them_.”

Anya jots down the new number and frowns at the full page of numbers. There is no way she can finish those hexbags tonight. “He like Thighslapper too?”

“ _Nah. Just tell ol’ Kev that Mr. Fizzles misses him_.” Anya shakes her head. Garth sure is a weird one, but she likes him. 

“Thank you, Garth. You’ve been a great help,” Anya says as goodbye. 

“ _Dasvidaniya, Anya_ ,” Garth replies before the line goes dead. 

Anya smiles at the phone and hangs up herself. She takes a deep breath before picking it up again. Hopefully they will answer the first call and she can go back to work. 

==========

They do not answer the first number. Or the second. Or the third. Neither Sam nor Dean answer any of the numbers Garth gave her. Anya has left numerous messages, and she is sure her hair is a mess from running her fingers through it so many times. She only has one more number to call, and it is for the strange Kevin who supposedly works with or for the brothers. 

She shifts her position on the wooden stool, and realizes her ass has completely fallen asleep. With a grumbled curse under her breath she dials the final number. The phone rings nearly six times, and Anya is about to call it quits and hang up the phone when she hears the telltale click of the call being answered. 

Kevin, if that’s who answers, doesn’t say anything. 

“Hello?” Anya finally says when it's clear the other person is too paranoid to do so. 

“ _Who is this_?” The voice is far younger than she's expecting. 

“This is Anya, I work for a hunter’s shop in Seattle. I was given this number by Garth,” Anya tells the boy. “Is this Kevin?”

“ _How do I know you’re telling the truth_?” And it brakes Anya’s heart a little that this young kid is already so terrified. 

“He told me to tell you that a- uh- Mr. Fizzles missed you?” Anya crosses her fingers that it's enough to convince the boy. 

“ _Fuckin’ Garth. So what do you need_?”

“So this is Kevin?” The boy grunts a yes. “Okay. Um. Well, I heard that you kinda work with Sam and Dean Winchester. I have some information about the witch they’ve got a hit on.”

There is a crash on the other end of the phone, like Kevin stood up suddenly and toppled his chair. “ _Are you serious? Oh man. You said you’re in Seattle_?”

“Yeah, I work for a shop here. I kinda, well, I know Alex. I might be able to help reverse whatever she did. As long as their not dead, I mean,” Anya tells the boy. The door dings and Anya looks up to see Peter enter the store. The older man gives her a kind smile, but frowns when he sees the state Anya is in. 

“ _That’s awesome. Let me call Dean, and we’ll see what he wants to do. Can you stay by this phone for a while_?”

“Yeah, I have some work to do anyways. Thanks for passing the word on, Kevin.” Anya gives Peter a look that promises an explanation as she says her goodbyes and hangs up the phone. 

“It looks like you’ve had an eventful night,” Peter says with a chuckle. “Let me make some tea, and you can tell me all about it.”

As he disappears around the corner Anya swears. Where is she even going to start?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How'd'ya know?” Dean asks._
> 
> _Benny just smirks and taps the side of his nose. “You forget, brother, that I’m all animal. We’re made to sniff out those matin’ hormones.” He dramatically waves the same hand in front of his face. “And boy! Were you puttin’ out some heady ‘keep away, that’s mine’ vibes.”_
> 
> _He bristles and continues to glare. “I was not,” he replies stubbornly._
> 
> _“You keep tellin’ yourself that,” Benny laughs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. I am so beyond sorry for this super late chapter. I started my first term at college this year and it kind of kicked my ass. So my motivation to write just flew away. Here it is though! Hope it's worth the wait. 
> 
> And I think I forgot to mention it in the last chapter, but I have such a clear vision in my head for what Anya looks like. If you're interested, google Allison Harvard. So weird and pretty.

Dean never thought he would be thankful for angelic intervention. But when he lands in front of his brother, vampire best friend, and pseudo new mother figure in magically clean boxer briefs he’s pretty damn happy. Unfortunately, that mean’s that Castiel is back to normal too and doesn’t have those pretty marks on her neck. The marks that _Dean_ put there.

There’s a stirring in his chest and Dean feels his cock twitch valiantly in his pants. With an internal scolding to his genitals, he takes a much needed step away from the angel. a chance look up reveals a much to knowing smirk on Benny’s face and it makes Dean flush.

“Have an enjoyable hunt, brother?” The southerner asks with faux innocence dripping from the words.

“Uh, yeah. Real good,” Dean replies evenly, for which he is proud. “What about you three? You have any problems?”

“It was textbook,” Sam answers for the trio.

Dean nods. “Good. That’s good.” Silence falls again while Dean looks over the others. Benny is practically unscathed, with only an already closing cut to his cheek and some blood blotted in his scruff. Jody and Sam look a little worst for wear. The sheriff has scratches running up her forearms and his brother seems to be favoring his his left side. “Cas, think you could help them out?”

The angel nods and reaches out her hands, and heals the two with a touch to the forehead. Sam thanks her with a smile, but Jody only stares at her healed arms with wide eyes. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before landing on, “whoa.”

“Tell me about it. First time I got angel zapped I nearly crapped my pants!” Dean gets a bitch-face from Sam, and sticks his tongue out in return.

Jody still looks minutely shellshocked, but manages to speak. “It’s late. How about you all come crash at the house? I have more than enough room for the four of you for another night.”

Sam smiles and reaches out to give her arm a squeeze. “That’d be great, Jody. Thanks.”

The group collectively makes their way towards the Impala. Castiel opens her mouth to offer transportation, but Dean vehemently refuses. “I’m reached my limit ridin’ those angel wings of yours, Cas.”

It had seemed like a normal thing to say in Dean’s head, but the moment the words are out he regrets them. Castiel turns a little pink, and Benny fails in trying to hold in his guffaw. Somehow the vampire knows what happened, and Dean doesn’t really want to know how. Except he does. With a hand on the vampire’s arm he brings them to a stop and glares until the others are out of earshot.

“How'd'ya know?” Dean asks.

Benny just smirks and taps the side of his nose. “You forget, brother, that I’m _all_ animal. We’re made to sniff out those matin’ hormones.” He dramatically waves the same hand in front of his face. “And boy! Were you puttin’ out some heady ‘keep away, that’s mine’ vibes.”

He bristles and continues to glare. “I was not,” he replies stubbornly.

“You keep tellin’ yourself that,” Benny laughs.

Dean opens his mouth, ready with a snappy reply, when Sam calls from the Impala. He settles on glaring one more time before stomping off. Benny laughs again, louder and matches his steps.

When the pair make it to the car, Sam is in the passenger seat with one of their phones pressed to his ear and Jody and Castiel are sitting in the back, leaving room for Benny to slide in. Benny smirks at the older Winchester when he see’s that Castiel drew the short straw and is in the middle. Dean ignores him and takes his own seat behind the wheel.

As Sam listens to the message his brows furrow, then rise clear to his hairline. By the end he’s looking more hopeful than he’s looked in a while.

“What’s got you lookin’ like a kid on prom night?” Dean asks his brother as he starts the Impala. Any reply gets stalled as the engine rumbles a hello. Dean eases her out of park and back onto the main road.

“It was a message from Kev. Apparently someone has information for us about the witch curse,” Sam tells the group as he starts the message over and jots down a phone number. “Some girl at a hunter’s shop. We’re meant to give her a call.”

Dean tries not to get his hopes up, but at this point any information is good information. “What’re you waitin’ for? Give the girl a call,” Dean says obviously as he turns right off the rural road. Sam sends him a dirty look but does as he’s told.

The farmhouse was close to Jody’s, so their pulling into the driveway when Sam perks up in his seat. “Hi, this is Sam Winchester. I heard you have some information for me?”

Dean kills the engine and turns to watch his brother. The whole car is silent as they wait.

“Wait wait, hold on. You’re telling me you _know_ Alex? Where is she?” Before the girl on the other line can speak another word, Dean steals the phone from his brother and presses it to his ear.

“Hey, this is Dean. What did you just say to my brother?” He realizes he doesn’t sound as calm and collected as Sam, but can’t seem to reel it in.

 _“Oh shit. You sound just as scary as I thought you would,”_ the girl answers and Dean can hear her laughing nervously. _“I said, my name’s Anya and I think I can help reverse whatever she’s done because I know Alex. Really well actually.”_

“How well is really well?” Dean asks.

_“She’s my mom?”_

It spoken so quietly Dean nearly misses it. But he doesn’t.“Your mom? Does that mean you’re…”

 _“Yeah. I’m a witch too, but I just do white magic stuff. I use it here at the shop to help hunters,”_ Anya replies. She’s sounding more sure of herself the more she speaks, which Dean is grateful for. _“But that’s not the point. The point is I can help, if you’ll let me.”_

“Hold on,” Dean says into the phone before covering the microphone with his hand. “So, she’s the witch bitch’s witchy daughter and she says she can help.”

Sam makes a gesture with his hands like ‘what are you waiting for?’ and says, “What are you waiting for?”

“Are we really going to trust this girl?” Dean asks his brother. He twists in his seat and faces the angel. “What do you think, Cas?”

Castiel’s brows are furrowed and she’s tilting her head to the side. “I believe this is our best chance as alleviating the curse.”

Dean groans. He doesn’t like witches, whatever their flavor; white or black. “Fine,” he tells the group. Then he puts the phone back to his ear. “Fine. Where are you?”

_“I’m in Seattle, but…”_

Dean does some quick figuring in his head. “There’s enough of us here, we could probably make it in a day or so.”

 _“Hold on there, mister hunter. I was going to say I’m in Seattle but it would be easier for me to just fly to wherever you are. You know flying, right? You right on a big car in the sky from one place to another?”_ Anya snarks back at him. Dean wrinkles his nose. He takes it back, he does not like how sure of herself she is.

“Fine, have it your way. We’re headin’ to Kansas. Could you get the next flight to Kansas City?” Dean crosses his fingers.

There is silence on the other end of the phone, and the only thing he can hear is the click-click-click of fingers on a keyboard. Nearly a minute later there is a final click and Anya answers, _“Done. I land in Kansas City at four fifty four Kansas Time.”_

Dean nods. “Good. We’ll see you then.” He hangs up without saying goodbye and tosses the phone to his brother. “We gotta get to Kansas City.”

Only then do the five crawl out of the car. Jody is quick to pull the hunters and the angel into tight hugs. “Thanks for your help. I owe you one,” she says as she gives Sam a tight squeeze.

Dean turns to Benny and claps him on the shoulder. “It was good to see you, man.”

Benny returns the gesture, and winks, “Nah, brother, it was good to see you. You have fun with that Angel, ya hear?”

“Shut up, Benny,” Dean grumbles.

The vampire just laughs, turns to Castiel and pulls her into a tight hug. “It’s always a pleasure to see ya, Angel. You keep our boy in line.”

He places a stunned Castle back on solid ground. Her mouth is opened in shock and her eyes are comically wide. “Okay,” she replies after a moment.

Once the goodbyes are done, the three climb back into the car and reverse out of the driveway.

As they drive, Dean reiterates exactly what Anya told him, and the brothers debate over the pros and cons of getting help from a witch. Sam counters that not all witches are bad, while Dean asks if he remember the incident with the razor blades. The argument tapers off when they both realize that they don’t have any other choice.

They only stop once in Omaha when Dean needs coffee, and make generally good time.

It’s quarter till five when they arrive at Kansas City International Airport and park just outside of baggage claim. Dean turns the key in the ignition, killing the power and checks his watch. “How will we know it’s her?” He asks.

Sam shrugs. “Hate to say it, but we’re kinda infamous in the community. I figure she’ll just know it’s us.”

Dean agrees, so he just turns the stereo on on relaxes back in the seat. “Wake me in ten, would ya?” Sam snorts, but doesn’t try to interrupt his power nap.

Ten minutes flies by too soon, and before Dean knows it their walking into the large room, scanning the different baggage carousels.

Turns out Sam was right, when they saw a young woman spot them and immediately start to walk over.

Anya is nothing like Dean expects. When he thinks of a white witch he tends to imagine some dowdy hippy, no matter how young she sounds on the phone. The person approaching them now, however, was not that.

To start, she was tall. Not compared to Sam or Dean, but she towered over the other women in baggage claim. Including Castiel. It was almost cute, how Castiel had to raise her chin to look Anya in the eye.

She was wearing tight black pants tucked into some pretty hardcore looking boots, with an oversized maroon sweater on top. Her hair was dyed nearly white and she was watching them with huge, gray eyes.

To put it kindly, she was kind of, weirdly gorgeous.

"Sam and Dean, right?" She asks. She has a backpack hanging from her shoulder and a large rolling suitcase behind her.

"Yeah that's us. It's nice to meet you," Sam replies kindly as he extends his hand for a shake. Anya accepts, and her eerie gaze slides to Castiel.

"Oh motherfucker," she swears. She extends her own hands, but unlike Sam, she holds it out with her palm facing the angel. Her eyes slide closed and her lips pull down into a frown. "I can't believe she did this to you. I am so sorry," she says to a flummoxed Castiel.

Everything in Dean is telling him to shake the girl until explanation falls out. If this had happened to them a couple years ago, he would have. But not now. Now, Dean knows that the right way isn't always the quick way. He needs to get them somewhere quiet where they can talk. "Let's not talk here. I saw a diner a while back. I could go for some breakfast."

Anya nods. She looks distressed, but smiles shakily when Sam offers to take her bag for her. Sam and Dean take the front, leaving the girls in the back.

The drive to the diner is awkward, what with Dean watching Castiel, who is being watched by Anya. Sam is on his phone, and reminds Dean that then only have an hour until sunrise.

Dean parks the Impala in the diner's parking lot, and they all make their way inside. Being so early, they're the only customers present. A homely woman behind the counter tells them to grab a seat, which they do. Anya and Sam take one side, and Castiel and Dean take the other.

The waitress comes to their table, and all four order coffee to start. Once the woman leaves Dean gives Anya his full attention. "So it seems like you know exactly what mother dearest did to Cas."

Anya clears her throat and nods, "Yeah. He, uh, changes right? At sunset?"

"That's right. Do you know how to fix it?" Dean asks. The table goes quiet when their waitress, Beverly, returns with their coffee. She takes food orders quickly, no doubt sensing the weird tension at the table.

Anya takes a few swallows of the scolding coffee before shrugging. "Well yes, but there are certain stipulations."

"Stipulations? Like what?" Sam asks her.

"Mom thought that men didn't understand the dangers women face in this world. The spell was meant to make sure to change that," she takes another sip of her coffee and grimaces. "So she made it difficult to cure if, well. Fuck."

Dean makes sure he isn't scowling when he prompts, "It's okay, you can tell us."

Anya huffs and downs the rest of her coffee. "I can lift the curse in the first week, easy. Just as long as he hasn't engaged in sexual activities in his female form."

Dean stops breathing, and he can feel Castiel stiffen beside him.

"Oh, well that's not going to be a problem," Sam responds with a laugh. When Dean doesn't share his sentiments, Sam turns to face his brother. He must see something he doesn't like, because his eyes go stormy. "You didn't. Please, Dean, tell me you're not that stupid."

Dean just shrugs. There isn’t really anything he can say, but his brother’s glare only deepens. With a nervous cough he squeaks out a pathetic, “Oops?"

Sam sighs and drops his head to the formica tabletop. It’s going to be an awkward breakfast.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How exactly did this whatever it was happen?”_
> 
> _“Like, what position?”_

Sam doesn’t speak again right away. He groans a little then lifts his head to glare at Dean and Castiel, then drops his head again. When he does finally formulate words, he does so with his face smashed against the laminated top. “How _exactly_ did this _whatever it was_ happen?”

Dean pushes his eggs, which had been dropped of by an increasingly concerned Beverly while Sam was face-tabling, around his plate. “Like, what position?”

He is not expecting Sam to move so fast, and has no chance of avoiding the flying piece of rye toast that is thrown his way. “No! I don’t mean what position. God, Dean!”

“I don’t know, Sam! It was after the vamp thing, and it just happened!” Dean explained quickly. He feels slimy and gross where the buttered projectile landed on his face. With a grimace he reaches for Sam’s clean napkin, because it’s his fault, and wipes at his cheek.

“Dean’s correct,” Castiel adds as she plucks the napkin out of Dean’s hand and cleans a spot he must have missed. “It was a combination of adrenalin, curiosity on my part, and a long standing sexual tension. It couldn’t have been avoided.”

“ _Long standing sexual tension_? That your fancy way of sayin’ you’ve always thought I was sexy, Cas?” Dean can’t help but tease.

“I did always say we had a profound bond,” Castiel actually jokes back, making Sam whine again and drop his head down harder.

Anya was watching the interaction with a strange facial expression. It seems like she’s entertained, and not sure if she is allowed to be. Finally, she clears her throat. “You know I still can reverse it, right? It’ll just take a little longer.”

“How long?” Dean asks the witch.

“I need to do some research, and find some ingredients, but I’d guess a month? Month and a half tops,” Anya responds. She adds, after clearing her throat, “and now that you’ve already you know it won’t really matter if it happens again.”

She squeaks when Sam pops up and turns a glare on her. “Don’t encourage them.”

“Sam! Don’t scare the girl,” Dean snips at his brother. Sam huffs out an apology to the witch and stuffs a forkful of oatmeal into his mouth.

Anya smiles at Dean in thanks and checks her watch before continuing. “Anyway, we’re almost out of time. Man, this curse really sucks the life out of a relaxing breakfast. You said something on the phone about heading somewhere in Kansas. Could I do my work there?”

“Yeah, the bunker’s great for that,” Sam tells her.

Dean nods his agreement, and moves to help Castiel out of the booth. The angel walks quickly to the bathroom with a bundle of clothes under her arm, and Dean watches her go. He doesn’t dare speak until the door is closed behind her. “Cas’s going to be okay, right? I mean this wont cause, like, lasting damage will it?”

“No, after I reverse it he should be able to go right back to normal,” Anya answers. She smiles reassuringly at the brothers, who return it shakily.

“How are you kids doin’ over here?” Beverly asks with a hand on her full hips.

Dean sends the waitress a flirtatious smirk and a wink. “I think we’re all done here, sweetheart. It was great.”

Beverly scoffs and lightly smacks him on he shoulder. “I wouldn’t let your girlfriend catch you flirtin’ with little ole’ me,” she stage-whispers, but sends him a wink of her own. “I’ll bring your check right over.”

Sam chuckles at his brother. It doesn’t matter who is wearing the diner apron, Dean can’t stop himself from flinging himself at them. It used to irk the younger Winchester, but now it is just another way for them to amuse themselves. Anya seems to get it, because she is giggling with them.

“Someday one of these cougars are gonna take you up on the offer, Dean,” Sam says between laughs.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, Sammy,” Dean replies. “But hey! At least this time she thought I was straight with Cas instead of gay with you.”

Beverly returns and takes Dean’s card (Turk Turkleton, this month), cutting off any retort Sam may have. Sam drops it and waits patiently for his older brother to sign the receipt, leave a generous tip, and scoot out of the booth. What he doesn’t expect is for Dean to throw him the Impala’s keys. “You’re drivin’. I’m beat.”

Sam and Anya slip out of the booth and follow him towards the door of the diner. The group only pauses once to knock on the bathroom door.

“Coast’s clear, Cas,” Dean says softly. The door opens immediately, letting out a casually dressed Castiel. They decided on the drive to Kansas City that if he’s going to be changing often, it makes sense for his clothes to be easier to remove. So instead of Jimmy’s suit, he’s wearing a pair of Dean’s jeans and a zip up hoodie of Sam’s. There are also dark circles under the angel’s eyes.

“Honey, have you had a chance to sleep since you got cursed?” Anya asks quietly as Sam and Dean open the door to the diner. Outside the sun is casting the parking lot in a soft orange hue.

Castiel shakes his head. “Angels do not require sleep,” he explains, before raising his hand to cover a yawn. He looks almost surprised when he comments, “That’s new.”

They’re at the Impala and Anya takes the initiative to push the angel towards the backseat, mirroring Sam who’s doing the same to his brother. “You need to sleep, Castiel. This curse is a doozy and you will need to keep your strength.”

The angel doesn’t put up a fight. Instead, he just opens the backdoor and slides into the seat. Anya smiles at her good job done and follows suit, dipping down into her own seat. Sam tosses her an exasperated smile from behind the wheel and turns the engine over with a roar.

As they pull onto US-71 Anya turns to check on the men in the backseat, but they are already asleep. “That was fast,” she comments. “Do you need something to help you stay awake?” She asks Sam, who nods gratefully.

“That’d be great, thanks.” Anya reaches into her carry-on in the footwell and pulls out two Redbulls. She tosses one to Sam and cracks the second for herself.

Silence falls over the Impala as they drive. Sam is content to listen to folk music on a local station and Anya occupies herself with writing notes for the reversal spell. Occasionally, Dean or Castiel let out a snore, but otherwise they remain quiet in their sleep. Dean’s head lolls towards the window, legs sprawled wide. Castiel, on the other hand, is curled up on the seat with his bare feet resting in his friends lap.

“So what’s their story, anyways?” Anya finally asks after nearly a half an hour on the road. For emphasis she jabs her thumb in the direction of the backseat. “Cause to be honest, I would never have guessed that they weren’t a couple.”

“It’s complicated,” Sam begins while turning the radio volume down. “My brother has never been someone who likes having friends. He was always fine when it was just the two of us against the world. Then he met Cas, and it was an instant bond.”

“A profound bond?” Anya snarks.

“That’s how Cas puts it,” Sam laughs back. “I just think Dean found a kindred spirit in Cas. They’re best friends.”

Anya takes a sip of her energy drink before asking quietly, “Best friends who apparently fool around?”

Sam shrugs. “I guess? I know I seemed upset at the diner, and I am, but not because of that. Well, kinda because of that. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me,” the young witch replies.

Sam flips the radio completely off and takes a breath, glancing at the two in the backseat through the rearview mirror before speaking. “I’ve known for years that Castiel loves Dean, in his own way. And I think that deep down, Dean really cares about Cas too. What makes me nervous is Dean knack for really fucking up the good things in his life.”

He falls silent again and taps his fingers on the steering wheel nervously. “I guess I’m upset because whatever happened between them wasn’t talked about, or even thought about before it happened. And I’m afraid Dean will eventually freak out and ruin what could be the best thing to happen in his life.”

“So you would be fine if they got together, you just want them to want to really get together?” Anya asks slowly.

Sam breaths out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s about right.” He reaches forward and flips the radio back on. “But I doubt that’s going to happen. Dean’s practically allergic to feelings.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I would actually bet that Dean would figure his feeling really quick with the right push.” Anya turns to Sam with a sinister smirk on her lips.

With a raised brow Sam turns to face the witch. “It sounds like you know how to push him.”

“Oh yeah. All we need is booze, and jealousy,” Anya whispers. She makes one last check on the sleeping men before turning completely in her seat to face Sam. “So ready to hear my plan?”

Sam nods vigorously.

==========

Anya responds to the Bunker like anyone else would; with wide eyes and a handful of cursed expletives.

“Holy fuck. This place is amazing! How’d you ever find it?” She asks as she leans precariously over the balcony to get a better view of the war-room.

“We inherited it,” Sam explains as he subconsciously reaches put to steady her should she fall.

“Yeah, we’re _legacies_ ,” Dean adds with a wink as he descends the steps to the lower level. He had woken up only half an hour previous well rested and didn’t seemed bothered by his close proximity to Castiel. He’d just chuckled and crossed his hands over the angel’s ankles.

Castiel hadn’t woken up until they reached the bunker, and had just smiled at the other three before pulling his legs out of Dean’s lap.

“So, Cas, why don’t we go have a chat about the curse,” Anya asks the angel as her part of phase one, divide and conquer. Before waiting for a reply Anya drags the angel down the stairs and towards the library.

Sam watches her go with a smile. Now it’s his turn. He follows the others into the bunker, and heads into the direction of Dean’s room. His older brother is standing over his bed, sorting his dirty clothes from the ones that could go for another wearing or two.

“I’m gonna head out for a food run, you should come with me,” Sam tells his brother.

Dean drops the shirt he’s holding and turns to meet his brother’s eyes. “Yeah, wish I could, but I don’t want to.” Then he smirks, the jackass.

“Come on, man. Your the one that does the lion’s share of the cooking around here. You know what we need,” Sam implores.

“Ugh, fine,” Dean groans. “But you’re letting me buy pie.”

“When have I ever stopped you from buying pie?” Sam asks back, not expecting a response. Dean raises a brow, and holds out his hands. Sam drops the Impala’s keys into his palm and moves out of the doorway.

Together the brothers make their way out of the bunker, letting the two in the library know where they’re going. Castiel just nods, but Anya gives Sam a secret wink. While their separated, they can try and get some answers from their respected companions.

Then they can put step two of their operation into effect.


End file.
